Alex Gore - The Cube

“There is nothing illogical and strange in this on first glance crazy equation. It is even quite simple.”

“Come on, Hans, I beg you…” Alan said impatiently.

Hans stood up and went to the white board. He took a black marker and started writing on it. The others followed every movement of his and and every symbol.

“Like I said, there is nothing complex at all in this code. It even looks written by some kid.” Hans stepped away from the white board. “He had written the first fourteen letters of the English alphabet:

А

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

М

N

Then he wrote a figure against each one:

A-1

B-2

C-3

D-4

E-5

F-6

G-7

H-8

I-9

J-10

K-11

L-12

М-13

N-14

“Do you see now?”

“For God’s sake, Hans, explain it normally”, Norman said, starting to lose his patience too.

“Well, it’s rather simple really. Square root of 117 is approximately 10.816653826.”

“Still that doesn’t make it equal to 5. It’s more than twenty three times bigger, isn’t it?” Marcela spoke.

“I cannot understand how 117 could be equal to 5. And what is the connection with the letters?” Alan asked, absorbing eagerly every word of the plump mathematician.

“Like I said, it’s fairly simple, I can’t believe you don’t see it.” Hans was obviously enjoying those final accords. “So, let’s see… Square of 10.816653826 is 117 or, more accurately 116.9999999999(9), but that doesn’t matter to us at the moment. If we had greater imagination and wish for games we would present the number 117 as a product of two other prime numbers, for example: 117=13x9, or, like it is in our small puzzle 5=117, which can be presented as 5=13x9. You understand, don’t you. Hans looked at his audience. Everybody was gaping with a vacant expression.

“More precisely said, when we replace the figures with letters of the alphabet, we will have the following:

5 will be E,

13 will be M, and

3 will be C…”

Hans stepped aside from the whiteboard, so that everyone could see what was written: Е=МС 2

Alan took her by the elbow to make her stop. She turned her head with the evident lack of desire of being spoken to and brushed aside her raven-black wavy hair.

“What do you need?”

“Just to talk to you.”

“I’m listening, Alan.”

“What do you think of all that?”

“What is there to think? We’ll write our reports, collect our checks… if there will be such at all…” Marcela coldly pulled her arm off his hand and started to walk away to her room.

“I don’t trust the Russians. I’m sure they are hiding something. And that Hans you are so close with, seems too self-absorbed. All his theories might lead us along the wrong path…”

“You are babbling nonsense, Alan.”

“You don’t feel like talking to me, do you?” Alan made a theatrical face of being devastated.

“Oh, come on, Alan, we don’t have time for this now!”

“Is it lack of time really or of desire?”

“Okay, let’s just say we have far more important issues.” She abruptly turned away her head and went on forward.

Alan remained speechless in the hall, looked after her for a moment, then started slowly for his own dome.

Sergey opened a bottle with a practiced gesture and content smile, eager to put his lips to the invigorating liquid. One could tell by his shining eyes that he had a weak spot for vodka. He poured to himself first and gulped greedily, only then he filled the glasses of all the rest and finally his own again.

Hans refused to drink. Marcela was barely touching the rim of the glass with her tongue, while Alan was flirting with the taste of the strong drink with the moderation and elegance of a real gentleman.

A little later Michael and Sergey sent the lieutenant for another bottle and did not find any difficulty in finishing it.

They were all sitting in the canteen. They were dead tired after the last sleepless days, filled with tension. They were not hungry but after Norman admitted there was alcohol in the base and he would not mind for them to relax after the hard day, they all agreed to move from the conference room to the canteen.

Norman himself, after sending to them the lieutenant with a bottle of vodka, went to check the perimeter and take care of some supplies.

“Tell us, Alan, what’s the story with that show Hans always teases you about?” Michael asked. He had wanted to hear it for a long time and he thought now was the right moment.

“I was hosting a show on CBS and I was removed from screen… stupid episode”, Alan replied. They had known each other for only three days but it was as if they had been together for an eternity. “The show had great ratings and for me after my military career and the university it was a brilliant chance. We cohosted it with a colleague of mine, Margaret. She had graduated the School of Journalism and had a lot of other diplomas too, a beautiful and well-read lady of high class.”

“Alan was madly in love with her”, Hans interfered but without a trace of irony this time.

“Yes, I don’t deny it, I was totally smitten with her, that was the woman I’ve had the deepest feelings for… She, like me, was highly ambitious and unscrupulous in attaining her goals. She, I might say, learned from the best. And at that time, in those circles there was no one better than me. Anyway, I invited her to work with me, I taught her everything I knew. She was my partner, we took turns hosting the show and shared the best stories.”

“Until one day Alan got a flash of consciousness”, Hans added again.

“There was a superhot story, just by the book, a godsend for every reporter. A young child was kidnapped and the terrorist was trying to extract a big ransom from the parents. But things got messy, his car was stuck and the cops had nailed him. He, together with the victim was in an old community building in the outskirts of Detroit. I was sent right away, I just had to report the case, say a few heart-breaking facts in front of the camera and then go and have my whiskey at the hotel.”

“But our Alan decided to play the hero on the wrong night”, Hans offered information.

“That’s right, Hans, I know I shouldn’t have done it”, Alan sighed. Still he was determined to go to the end. “We had just finished reporting the story and the cameraman was putting away his stuff, when I saw a small opening… For God’s sake, she was only 12, on the way to that place I couldn’t stop looking at her picture – a slim tall girl with gorgeous long black hair. I read her school report, she was an A student, interested in Biology… She wanted to become a doctor…”

“Our Alan acted impulsively and without warning the police or anybody at all, after seeing the slightly opened window, decided he could manage by himself. However, his military skills were not enough in this situation and he was trapped together with little Anna. Alan lost his nerves, started a fight with the kidnapper during which the girl was mortally wounded. The same night she died at the hospital… Alan got away with a gunshot wound in the shoulder, nothing serious, but did not dare show his face for weeks on end. Her parents and the public believed that if not for his reckless actions the child would be saved. Ten minutes before Alan rushed in the building, the kidnapper had agreed on the ransom with the police and prepared to release the girl unharmed.”

“Well, we just had no luck”, Alan said, lowering his head. “When I went inside the freak pointed his gun at me and I had no choice, I was scared he would shoot both of us…”